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"Time to get at it," Dad called through my door.
"Okay," I groaned.
Then I groaned softer, but far deeper. My manhood was sore. Not just sore, it throbbed and hurt.
I rolled onto my back and threw back the covers. It was dark red and shiny, and bouncing and jumping. It was no wonder, considering how long it'd been since it had gotten to perform. Not to mention the dream I'd been having when Dad woke me up.
Chet and Howie had taken Mitch and me to that hotel, and were teaching Mitch all the things they had shown me. One thing at a time, we taught Mitch all of it. He loved it. And he would only do them with me. He let Chet and Howie show us, but he'd only let me touch him. And when Chet or Howie touched me to show us something, Mitch would tell him not to.
We were doing that thing where you go really slow and wait between stroking down and then up. Long pauses, both of us blindfolded, each of us stroking the other one, not knowing when the other would do it to us. We were giggling and gasping, and having the most incredible time ever!
And Dad had broken the dream by waking me up. My penis was ready. My whole body was ready. I could have just probably barely touched it and it would have gone off. Probably exploded and shot semen everywhere. I tugged my balls down because they were tucked up so tight they ached. They probably ached from more than being tucked up so tight. I didn't dare touch my prick. I didn't want it going off. I wanted to keep it for Chet, like he had asked me to.
I was even afraid to get up out of bed, afraid that it would shoot. I stayed on my back and thought about school and homework and chores. It wouldn't go down. It kept throbbing and even leaking. When I moved my legs, it threatened to go off. I had to lay there and be still.
Dad came knocking again.
"Jeremy, come on. Chores to get done."
"I know, Dad. Be a minute."
Suddenly, I just knew what he thought. I knew he was sure I was doing it. What else would he think was delaying me? It was humiliating!
"Dad?" I called loudly.
I had to think of something to ask him or to say to keep him from thinking that. I rolled onto my side and pulled the blanket over myself in case he opened the door.
After a second or two, he called back, "What is it, son?"
"Dad? Uh, should I scrape the chalk out of the water basins?"
"Is it building up again?"
It was, but not much. And it was a stupid question. If it was building up, of course I should scrape it out.
"Yes," he said back, and I could hear something in his voice. "Is there anything wrong?"
"No!" I said way too quickly and loudly. Now I have to cover for that, too. Geeze! "Just wondering. It seems to be building up kind of fast is all."
"Well, if it is, scrape it out. Anything else?"
"No, just wondering. Wanted to mention it building up so fast. That's all."
"Fine. Do it if it needs it. Now get up and get at it."
I waited, then threw back the blanket and sat up. My erection wasn't throbbing and tingling so badly. I stood up and got dressed for chores. By the time I walked quickly through the kitchen it was gone.
I did the chores, and scraped the water basins. They almost actually needed it anyway, and now it was done. The day was going to be hot and sticky again. Which meant we'd probably spend the day inside in gym class. I was going to have to stare at Mitch's erection in his shorts, and he'd have to ignore mine. I was both glad and upset about that.
I showered quickly and got dressed even faster. I stared at myself in the mirror. I really wasn't a bad looking guy. My strawberry-blond hair was getting more blond and less red lately. The freckles were getting fainter. My eyes were maybe getting more blue than gray now. My shoulders and arms were thicker and broader. I really didn't look much like the nearly red-head, freckled, skinny, dorky guy I was used to seeing.
And now I knew for sure that I was hung like a horse. Well, not that hung, but I was definitely one of the biggest guys in my class down there. Not only was it long, my balls were large. I was lucky that way. I was already ahead of my classmates in puberty, but that wasn't the only reason I was so well endowed. I wondered how big it was going to be.
I thought of Chet saying how he had been barely six inches by fifteen. I was just over seven inches. He was barely seven inches now at eighteen. I hoped I would be eight inches by eighteen.
So would Mitch, I thought, grinning. Oh, God! Please let him be like us. Like me! Please, God, please let him be a homosexual! Please let him like me! I really think I love him! You did such a bang-up job on him! He's so perfect! Please, please!
What am I doing? I'm praying to God to make someone a homosexual? Would he? Or would he think that was wrong? If it's so wrong, why does it feel so good and so right to feel like that for him? Why does it feel so great to be with other guys if it's so wrong?
Is it Satan making it feel good? Is that how he takes souls? Does he make it feel so good to be so bad? Am I going to hell because I fornicated with other boys?
I stood in front of my mirror, thinking those thoughts, wondering if I was now on the path to hell.
Maybe I am, I finally thought. Maybe I'll go to hell for being with boys. Maybe I'll go to hell for being in love with Mitch. But I think it'd be worth it. I won't steal, I won't kill, I won't bear false witness or take His name in vain. I'll follow all the commandments. And if I go to hell for loving Mitch, then I'll deal with that then. If that's all it takes to end up in hell, then God isn't the loving God I want to worship. He can't doom me for love. I don't care who it's with. Love is His. It's not Satan's. Lucifer can't stand love. It weakens and pains him, that's what the preacher says. That's why we should all love one another. It makes the Devil weak.
Feeling better about how I felt about Mitch, I sighed deeply and got ready for breakfast. I hoped that my parents didn't bring up the mystery girl. They didn't. Talk was normal and about normal stuff. Then I was on the bus and then suddenly in homeroom. And in he walked.
I wished I knew how he did it. No matter what he wore, he looked stunning. Today it was gray sports shorts and a white, short-sleeved t-shirt. The shorts only hinted at what lurked behind them, and his strong legs looked so good against the gray material. When he swung around to sit down, they revealed his round, smooth buttocks. The shirt wasn't really tight, and the sleeve openings were loose enough and short enough that hints of his brown hair under his arms peeked out as he bent his arms with his hands on the top of his desk when he sat down.
I realized I had stared again when I saw him smiling at me and nodding hello. And I felt my erection in my pants.
"Hey, Jer," he said in his smooth but rough, low, resonant voice, his red lips smiling and wet.
Will you meet me after school and make out with me?
I shook my head, afraid I had actually spoken the words for a moment.
"Hey you want to naked wrestle on my back at my house after school?"
"Huh?" I asked, stunned.
"Howie wants to make me wrestle on my mat at my house after school," he repeated.
"Oh," I said in almost a sigh of relief. "Sounds like fun."
He didn't look like he thought so. He looked let down or something.
"I've got tons of chores to do today. Maybe do something with some friends later. No plans or anything. Maybe stay home and sleep." He nodded once, still looking sort of let down. "Don't want to hang out with Howie?" I asked.
"Sure, I guess," he said with a shrug. "Just thought since it was Friday, go out and do something. Ya know?"
"Not much to do around this town," I told him.
"Can I give you a call later?" he asked.
I sure wanted him to! But I didn't know if I was going to be home or not. I didn't know what Chet had planned, other than he wanted me to not have jerked off. I didn't know when I would be back home.
"Probably end up going out to dinner with my folks," I said.
He shrugged again, and still looked let down. It was really hard to not ask him to go do something. I wanted to spend time with him doing anything. Anything. And some certain things very badly. One of which was at least finding out what I could about his thoughts on homosexuals. And maybe finding out if he was, or was at least interested in messing around some more like we had yesterday at Chet's.
I wondered if I could come up with some way to get him to compare our pricks alone, just the two of us. Or do even more. I started getting hard again.
"Umm, if you give me your number, I'll call later, when I know what I end up having to do," I offered.
His smile returned and he nodded. He wrote his number down and handed it to me, asking for mine. I wrote it down and gave it to him. Once we put them away, we looked at each other and I felt so... weird. Like a kid who'd just made his first friend or something.
Mark and Chris were talking about Janet Helding and her big tits. Chris punched my shoulder and said, "Jer would probably dump his load in his pants if he saw them out of her bra."
"At least I'd have a chance to get them out of her bra," I said. "You'd make a mess in your shorts when she talked to you first time."
Mark and Mitch laughed, Chris said, "Pfft. I'd give it to her real good," and we ended up talking girls until the bell rang and Mitch and I headed to our first class together.
"You like Janet Helding?" Mitch asked as we walked down the hall.
"Sure, I guess. She's pretty and all. And she does have the biggest tits!"
We laughed, and I wished I could tell him who I really liked.
"You into boobs?" he asked.
"Sure. Who isn't?"
"I guess I like butts more. Nothing like a nice, round, firm butt."
"Yeah, I know what ya mean," I said, and thought, 'Like yours, Mitch.'
I forced myself not to look at him. I knew I'd give something away if I did. I stared at the floor as our sneakers made it move below us.
"Would you rather fuck, or get head?"
Head, from you, Mitch. Or fuck you. Or you fuck me. But why are you asking? Are you trying to get some insight on me? Are you interested? Are you trying to see if I'm interested in you? Are you a queer too?
"Dunno. Do I have to chose one?"
"Yeah. You can't have both. The girl says she'll let you fuck her, or she'll give you a blow-job. But not both. What do you choose?"
I thought for a second before I came up with a good question.
"Does she have a tight pussy? Or are her lips real nice and plump?"
Damn it. If I say fuck her, then that will make it seem less likely I would possibly do something with him.
"Head," I answered.
Because I could close my eyes and pretend it's you.
"Because I hear that head is even better than pussy."
He snickered. He was so handsome when he laughed like that! Geeze!
"I heard at my old school, that you can fake pussy easy, but not head," he said without looking at me.
"Probably," I said slowly. "I guess you can find stuff that feels like a hole, but what can feel like a warm, wet mouth that's sucking on it?"
"No kidding!" he said, now looking at me, smiling widely. "Heard bad head can be better than good pussy."
"Yeah. And you can even use your hands and make it feel like twat. Lotion and hold it right."
"Yeah. But how do you fake the sucking?"
We were quiet for a little bit before he asked a very shocking question.
He looked around to make sure he couldn't be heard before he spoke.
"You ever done it to one of the farm animals?"
"What? No! Gross!"
"No! I'm not that desperate!" I said, grimacing. "Not yet, anyway," I added, laughing.
He laughed really nicely.
"Just, I heard farm boys do it to the animals. Sheep and goats. Ya know?"
"Yeah, I heard that. Get joked about it, too. I think some guys really do. Honest. Like Charles Makeshift. I'm almost sure he has. His goats. He said he has, anyway."
"Really? He said so?"
"Yeah. He was probably joking."
"I know. I mean, I'd have to be like, so old and so alone before I'd even think about it. Like really old. Like thirty or something. And still a virgin. Then, maybe, I'd think about it. Gross."
"Yeah. No kiddin'. Me too. I'd rather... rather do it with a guy."
My guts shifted and I missed a step. I hoped he didn't notice. I swallowed. I tried to say, 'Me, too,' but I couldn't. I tried to force myself to say it. I just couldn't.
We were quiet until we got to our classroom. I could have hit myself for not saying something. Anything. As I sat there after the bell, a dozen answers came to me that I could have said. I was so angry at myself. I started wondering how I could restart that talk with him.
Every class, I thought of ways to bring up that topic again with Mitch. I didn't have the guts to at school, so I would have to wait until maybe tomorrow after the swimming lessons.
The thought of those lessons with Mitch in the pool gave me an erection and swirling guts and chills. I couldn't wait, but I was so worried, too.
I plotted and planned on ways to talk to Mitch about rather doing it with a guy than a farm animal. It was such a good way to bring up the whole topic. I hoped I could work it in sooner or later. I wondered what Chet and Howie had planned for after the swimming lessons.
My guts were tied into knots by the time I walked into the locker room for gym. I was almost proud of myself for how I didn't look as we changed. At anyone. I kept my eyes in my locker as we all talked. During gym, I barely took quick peeks at his groin as I knelt on his feet while he did sit-ups. I got hard, of course. I tried not to, but that was about impossible. Touching him to help him stretch and do exercises was just too wonderful. And he was hard. Oh, geeze.
I didn't look in the showers, either. I got so hard, though. It just got hard all the time all day long. I hadn't had an orgasm since the one with Chet three days ago. The one in the blindfold. When Chet had stroked once, then waited, then stroked again. And I'd exploded like never before.
Remembering that made it swell up so hard it felt like the skin might rip. And in the showers!
I put my mind to work on baseball stats and players. It was still hard when we got dressed. Guys were joking about erections and boners and calling each other homos and queers.
They joked about it, but I really was one. That made it go down.
More classes. Katy was nice, as usual. I tried to want to be interested in her, but it just wasn't there. I liked her, for sure, but nothing like I did Mitch. Or even Chet or Howie, or even some of my friends. I was never more sure I was homosexual.
I saw some of the guys from the poker game before my last class. We grinned at each other. I wondered if they were going to play poker tonight. I wondered if Chet was going to take me there or not. I wondered what Chet had planned for me. It got hard again.
Finally, baseball practice. Hot and sweaty, and clinging shorts and shirts. And Mitch all sweaty under my hands, and his hands on my sweaty body. It was so hard. So was his.
It was so frustrating! I wanted him so badly, and he might, possibly, maybe, be interested. And I couldn't just ask! I couldn't just say how much I liked him. Even probably loved him. I couldn't even hint at it.
I could have just screamed with the frustration and tension.
The showers were nearly painful. I was so hard again. I didn't dare look up from the floor. I heard guys teasing about the other guys' erections. Their jokes about homosexuals caused my boner to wane. And made me think about how much of a queer I was.
I was in a bad mood as Chet patted my back while Mitch and I got dressed.
"Hey, guys. I hear Howie is gonna work on some wrestling moves with you, Mitch."
"Yeah. We're going to my place. I have a good mat in the basement," he said.
"Cool. Be careful he don't jerk your leg off this time," Chet said, patting his shoulder. Then he leaned in closer and whispered, "Or something else."
Mitch turned instantly red! Really red! And he grinned in a weird way.
"Geeze, Chet!" I said, sounding almost angry.
I hadn't meant to sound mad, I just did. And I realized that I was, sort of. More jealous of Mitch and Howie being alone. Wrestling. I did get mad then.
"Your parents are going to be home, right?" I asked, sounding like it mattered to me or something.
"No. Not until after five," Mitch said, still really red-faced and grinning oddly.
I got even madder. The thought of them being alone, wrestling, just infuriated me.
"Uh-oh," Chet sing-songed, laughing.
"Shut up," Mitch said, trying to look and sound angry, but I could tell he was nearly laughing.
He's looking forward to it! I thought, growing even more angry. He wants to be alone with Howie! He liked Howie's hands on his legs, up his shorts, and he wants to see if Howie will go farther, do more.
I slammed my locker closed and walked away. Chet caught up to me before I got to the doors.
"Hey, what's up?" he asked.
"Nothing," I said, sounding really pissed.
"Yeah, right. What's the deal?"
"Nothing!" I said, even more angrily.
Chet pushed me into the side hallway and up against the wall. He stared into my face.
"You're jealous," he said, as if surprised.
"I am not!" I argued.
"Of what?" he asked quickly.
"I don't care if Howie and him do everything they want!"
He grinned. I realized I'd given myself away. I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms.
"Jer. Howie isn't going to. He'll probably find out some stuff, and see how far Mitch will let him go, and stuff, but I don't think he'll... you know... go all the way."
"Fucking will," I said, sure.
I was going to cry. It was insane! I was standing in the hallway outside the gym, a senior had me pushed up against the wall, and we were talking about two boys going to have sex together, and I was jealous and angry, and going to cry.
What the hell had happened to my life?
"You know he will," I said firmly. "Don't even try to lie to me. You know it."
He straightened up and pulled away from me, freeing me. I stood upright but didn't walk away. I held his gaze. He could barely keep looking at me. He finally looked away, sighed, then started walking. I walked beside him in silence all the way to his car.
Once he had it started, he looked over at me.
I was still angry and jealous. I didn't want Howie pawing Mitch. I didn't want Mitch having a glorious time with Howie. I didn't want Mitch to like Howie that way. I wanted Mitch to like me that way. I wanted to be the one who was first with Mitch.
"Jer, Howie is just going to see what he can find out about Mitch. He's not gonna do it with him."
Chet sighed loudly.
"He's trying to help you out, Jer."
"Jer, you want to know if Mitch is like us or not?"
I didn't respond. I just stewed.
Chet started driving. I didn't care where we went. I wasn't in the mood to do anything with him anyway. Then I thought that since Howie was going to be pawing Mitch, I might as well be pawing Chet. I slid over on the seat and put my hand on Chet's lap.
He looked at me and was obviously surprised. I shrugged and tried to smile in a way that was enticing. I rubbed. It responded. Mine didn't, even when his hand went down there and played around.
"Did you jerk it?" he asked.
"I haven't had one since you did that with the blindfold."
"Oh, shit. You're gonna..."
He laughed. I tried to. I did, but not honestly. I rubbed him as he got fully hard. Mine did, sort of.
I really wasn't in the mood. I was too worried and angry. But I wasn't going to not have a good time if Howie was gonna do it to Mitch.
"So you gonna tell me this big plan now?" I asked.
"Nope. Gonna take you home."
"So you can get changed, if you want. For the poker game."
So, we were going to the poker game. So big deal. I was surprised that I wasn't glad to go. I knew why, though. While we were at the poker party, Howie would be pawing Mitch.
I got even angrier.
Chet pulled my hand away.
"Don't get all worked up yet," he said, grinning.
"Why not?" I asked.
"Just stay cool for now. Get changed, tell your folks you're going to hang out with Howie and me, and we'll have you back before ten."
"With blue balls," I complained.
"Save it up."
"For what? When?" I asked, almost yelling.
"Yeah, tomorrow. Whatever."
"If you do, you won't regret it. Promise."
"Have I steered you wrong yet?"
I sighed, then said, "No. Guess not."
He really hadn't. He'd been a great guy. He'd been swell. Awesome.
I trusted him. I nodded.
We were quiet until we pulled into my driveway.
"So go get changed. If your folks want to ask me something, I'll take care of it. Okay?"
I was still angry, but not as much.
We told my folks I was hanging out with Chet and Howie and some of the guys from the baseball team. They were fine with it. I got into nice clothes, put on some cologne, messed with my hair, and left with Chet.
The drive was as long as I remembered it, and I was still not in any kind of good mood when we arrived. The guys were friendly and having a good time. I sat down and played cards.
It wasn't all that long before I was having a better time than I thought I would. The guys teased me some about taking me into that room with them, or playing strip poker, or teaching me things that didn't have anything to do with cards, and Chet let them.
Terry was so... almost as nice looking as Mitch. His blond hair, tanned face, big smile, and dark eyes were a real threat to my feelings for Mitch. It was hard not to stare at him. Like Mitch. And sitting next to him was just torture. I kept remembering how everyone talked about how big he was. The biggest there, they all said. I wanted to find out. Since Chet had put me off, and Mitch was being mauled by Howie, I really wanted to find out about Terry.
When an opportunity opened up in the conversations, and I saw the opportunity, I jumped on it.
"How big can it be? I mean, it can only be so big, right?"
Terry laughed along with some others at the table, then said, "I'd measure it, but they don't make rulers that long."
Everyone laughed more. I squinted my eyes at him and lifted one corner of my mouth.
"Prove it," I said.
"Ooooh!" filled the basement, as almost everyone said it at the same time.
"Jer?" Chet asked in an odd way.
"What?" I asked, glancing his way.
"Don't bite off more than you can suck," Chet said with a wink.
"Oh, come on. No one has that big a one," I said, looking back at Terry.
"Jer, if you really wanna see, then play for the honor," he said, staring at me. "But, if you get to see it, you have to suck it."
I squinted my eyes even tighter.
"Only if it's bigger than mine. If it's not, you suck mine."
"Oooh!" filled the basement again.
"You're a frosh," Terry said dismissively.
"I'm the biggest frosh there is," I boasted.
"Oooh!" all around again.
"Finish this hand, then we play high hand, just the two of us. Five card, draw two."
"Oooh!" yet again.
David won the hand. Which reminded me of something I'd seen last weekend.
"Aren't you and David together?" I asked Terry, while looking at David.
"Not together," Terry said. "Just together a lot."
"Not everyone can handle what he's got," David said with a wink. Then added, "I hope you don't sing."
The guys all laughed. I asked, "Why?"
"Because, his dork is gonna scrape your vocal chords raw."
"Pffft," I scoffed with a laugh. "He's gonna need Rolaids when I'm done scrubbing the inside of his stomach with mine."
"Oooh!" once again from nearly everyone.
"Deal, and put your mouth where my dork is," Terry said, grinning at me.
I wondered if I had gone too far. I dealt. I got a straight, ten-high, nearly a heart flush. I had to draw two cards. I kept the ten and nine of hearts. Terry looked confident. I drew a seven, a jack, and another jack. He had to be able to beat that. With just the two of us, a pair of anything was crap. I wasn't going to even get to see it.
"So, what you got?" Terry asked, his double meaning obvious.
"Seven inches. You?"
Laughter surrounded us.
"I've got nine, but you're not gonna see it. And I meant, your cards."
"I know. A pair of jacks."
I laid them on the table, then tossed the other cards beside them. Terry grinned and slowly laid down his cards, one at a time. A three, a four, a five, a six, and another three.
"Son of a bitch," Chet said softly.
I grinned for the first real time since Chet had walked up to Mitch and me in gym class.
"Okay, fine. I hope you're not easily shocked," Terry said as he stood up.
I saw it in his jeans. It was hanging down on one side. It looked huge! I mean... if it wasn't nine inches long, it was really close! I swallowed with real difficulty.
"Come on, Jer. The room is open," Terry said, waving that way.
"Don't choke him to death," and, "Keep both hands on it, Jer, it'll help," were the two things I clearly heard among the many such comments made as I followed Terry to the back room.
I'd wondered what was in that room, and what it looked like, and now I was going to find out. I'd also wondered what was in Terry's pants, and what it looked like, and now I was going to find out that, too.
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